


The Soviet Machine Advances

by dreamsofstars



Category: Chess - Rice/Ulvaeus/Andersson
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-18
Updated: 2010-12-18
Packaged: 2017-10-13 18:28:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/140343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamsofstars/pseuds/dreamsofstars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the disaster that was Merano, Molokov considers his unfortunate position and who put him there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Soviet Machine Advances

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Carmarthen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carmarthen/gifts).



It was not unusual for Molokov to attend a hearing into the conduct of one of the KGB's field officers.  He had been a loyal party member for years and had faithfully served the State and KGB with a particularly kind of ruthless excellence that had won him many accolades.  He was considered an unimpeachable authority and few unfortunate agents put in the spotlight could stand against his brutal line of questioning.

He had seen so many brought to their knees because of their ignoble failure to carry out the tasks assigned to him and now it was his turn to face the gauntlet.  How he had come to this was something he still couldn't quite comprehend.  Sergievsky was supposed to be a chess player with no eye on anything but the board in front of him.  He had a beautiful wife he ignored and routinely cheated on, he had children he scarcely paid a glance to... nothing else but the damnable game of chess was supposed to matter to him. 

His plan had been carefully crafted and had, so he thought at the time, carefully accounted for all the possibilities.  There was no doubt that Sergievsky could soundly defeat Trumper of course, but a little insurance could not hurt.  He was bound to seek a mistress while he was here and Trumper's indomitable second was the perfect choice.  Sergievsky would be happy and refrain from displaying his occasional childish fits of temper and Trumper would be devastated at the loss of the person who was, by all accounts, his only friend.  The Soviet Union would triumph, as she must, and all would be right with the world.

But contrary to all expectations, Sergievsky had developed a streak of independence and defected at the very height of his triumph and now, there was only Molokov left to bear the blame as well as the shame of this embarrassment.

It would take all of his guile and persuasiveness he possessed to survive this disgrace.  It was also going to necessitate the sacrifice of an innocent man, or as innocent as one could be in these times, whose only real crime was being talented enough to merit being his assistant.  It was a regrettable thing to be sure – Kozlov had every indication of being a very useful asset to the agency but it simply must be done.  Someone had to pay and under no circumstances could it be Molokov himself.  He was too useful, too valuable.  Most important, he needed to be alive so he could extract his revenge.

It didn't take a genius to know who was really behind Sergievsky's defection.  Even if the man had managed to come up with this idea himself, there was only one person who could have arranged this defection and have it carried out flawlessly. Walter de Courcey.

He had known the CIA agent would be trouble from their very first meeting all those years ago. It was immediately clear he could not be so easily intimidated or put off by vague promises.  He'd wanted to put a bullet in de Courcey within five minutes to save everyone the trouble and now, he wished he had done so then.  Things would have been so much simpler then and he'd hardly be in this position.  Truly, it was a pity he had been born in the wrong country.




Yes, de Courcey was a man that Molokov could do business with.  He didn't trust him but that was unimportant as he trusted no one.  What mattered was that they were capable of coming together and working to eke out deals that were mutually beneficial to their respective countries – and to their own positions.

They had developed a good working relationship or so it had seemed and that must surely be where the problem truly lay.  He had forgotten himself, forgotten his duty to the Soviet Union and in doing so, made the same mistake that everyone else had made when dealing with de Courcey.

He'd allowed himself to enjoy this camaraderie with him and so he'd paid a little less attention then he should have, let the leash on Sergievsky slack a little too much.  He'd forgotten the first cardinal rule of spies everywhere.  He'd allowed feelings to come between him and the execution of his work.

Both Sergievsky and de Courcey had to pay for this betrayal and they would pay dearly.  He had the beginnings of a plot in mind.  Viigand was a passable player from what little gossip of chess that he could bring himself to listen to – it wasn't inconceivable that he could be the grandmaster to go up against Sergievsky at the next match.  He had never once shown any inclination to think for himself when it came to matters of politics and he would no doubt be very happy to do as he was told in exchange for having a place to live and his family members safe where they lived in Tallinn.

Svetlana Sergievskaya was another useful tool.  He could bring her to the match, wherever it would be held and simply watch the dominoes fall.  She didn't like him, he knew, but she was an abandoned wife with two children to feed.  She would do whatever was asked of her and her husband's sense of guilt of shame would do all the rest.

And even should Sergievsky manage to hold off Viigand and continue to ignore his wife, there would be a third card to play.  A few phone calls, a few forged documents and Florence Vassy's father would live again.  Who knows, he might even be able to produce an actual father for her, depending on how the situation fell out.  He could offer Florence's father in trade for Anatoly losing and with de Courcey brokering this deal, there was simply no way this could fail.

Sergievsky would be back home and within Molokov's reach and de Courcey would bear the disgrace of making deals for someone who had been dead for thirty-five years.  Molokov could not think of any victory that would feel sweeter.


End file.
